


I dare you to stop me

by dancey94



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, POV First Person, POV Male Character, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 03:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6267733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancey94/pseuds/dancey94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will didn't expect their post-fall story to look like that. Or maybe he did...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I dare you to stop me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ferris_Eris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferris_Eris/gifts), [abigail_frank](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigail_frank/gifts).



I followed the urges I kept down for so long. I had cultivated them as the inspirations they were. Now, I became truly myself. I know who I am. And I’m certain about who Hannibal is.

My eyes are tired as I repetitively open and close them. Blinking should not be conscious, yet here I am, aware of every nerve in my body; how I twitch, how my ribcage moves with every breath. The numbness has passed, allowing the oversensitivity to come instead. It’s like all my senses have heightened. It appears I can even smell the grass outside.

It has been raining for the last few days, almost without any breaks, and today the sun decided to torture me. Its bright rays spread around the room, reflecting on every possible surface, and irritate my eyes even more. I wish it was still raining. In fact, I wish it never stopped raining. Rain would wash away the stains and the filth that I can still feel under my feet as I take a walk in the forest.

Now, the mud will dry and become a dark dust, with no plants to break through. I know how it’s going to look, I know the texture it’s going to assume. I know everything about this place and every corner within a few miles. I know where a particular bush grows and the traps we set. Even though we planned to stay here for a while, I didn’t envisage we would stay for more than two months. We agreed to wait until we’re healed and absolutely ready to move. But after the first month, we became comfortable here. It was lazy of us to stay but we did. This is the third month after…

We fell. And I was pretty much certain we would die. I was almost ready to die. I don’t remember much of that night, not really. Mostly flashes of parts of the memories, but nothing undistorted. I can’t say with perfect clarity what I had in mind when I pushed us both off the cliff.

Oh. Hannibal walks into the room. He pushes the curtains away, allowing more sun to come through. I want to kill him. I look at his smug grin, the crinkled spaces around his eyes, the slight paunch with a place that I know still hurts him sometimes but he won’t let anyone know. He’s just smiling, amused and proud to be wearing another mark on him.

I find it funny how he tries to act calm and how he seems not to be moved by so many transformative events. He doesn’t claim they were unremarkable; he just doesn’t behave differently. Or maybe we’ve both changed so much, we can no longer see any more changes.

Hannibal looks through the window and sighs. It appears he too misses the rain. The nostalgia settled in our hearts for good but I know he will make me re-evaluate my decisions and look at the world differently. I wonder if he ever counts on me to do the same thing with him. Does he wait for me to take his hand and lead him outside?

He continues to stare at the green fields around the house and then, finally, he looks at me.

“I haven’t make breakfast yet.” He confesses and perches on the edge of the bed. I rise and lean my back against the headboard. He knows. Does he wish for us to move, too?

“Do you need any help?” I ask, amused. We both know it’s not that. I follow his gaze as he looks at me, at the pillow next to me and an empty space I know he would gladly take. If only I gave him permission. If only I invited him.

“One day, it will be one breakfast too late and we may become frozen in time, not even realising how quickly we formed attachments to this place.”

Somehow it already feels as though we were stuck. There is a transparent barrier between us, that I’m aware Hannibal is ready to cross, but like any other, he’s not forcing me to let him, he’s not forcing me to cross it, too. I know what will happen when we’re on the other side. Or maybe I don’t. There’s one way to find out, I guess.

“Are we heading towards a specific destination or are you allowing fate to decide?”

“Would it alarm you if I said there was no plan to follow?”

“No. I already know you’re good at improvisation.”

“Does that mean you’re ready to move on?”

I’m tempted to calculate whether it’s better to stay or to leave this place. My mind is already forming graphs and tables, images that fit in one of the two columns – pros and cons. I’ve become like him, or rather, I allowed myself to be finally myself.

“I want you to show me more. I want to see places I’ve only ever read about. I want to explore. I want…more.”

“Greedy.”

“Insatiable.” I correct and watch a smile spread on his face. We are past apologies and forgiveness. We are free and we are allowed to stay that way. Perhaps not everyone is happy about that outcome but I couldn’t imagine a better one. Maybe if we were dead…

“I’ll spoil you till the last cell in your body no longer yearns for more. I will tend to your curiosity, leaving nothing hidden.”

Hannibal bends and his smooth body movement make it seem as if he was a cat. Finally, he flinches when the wound in his stomach gets annoyed at his failed advances towards me. I want to laugh. He almost falls on my straightened legs covered with a blanket but his acrobatic skills prevent him from doing so. His arm stretches and he places his hand by my thigh, on the other side, to support himself. I feel trapped.

My breath is caught in my throat and I can relax only at the thought that this one gesture is not at all intentional and not at all aimed at deepening the intimacy between us.

Yet I find myself staring at his mouth as he turns his head. Another second passes and I know he’ll get up soon. I move my own hand to cover his by my thigh. His eyes close at the feeling of my warm palm against his skin. He doesn’t even look at me or turn his head. It makes it almost unreal but we stay still like that.

“But if we stayed…” I begin and Hannibal opens his eyes. The dream is over. It’s time to come back to reality.

“If we stayed?” He asks and I have no words to offer him. Teasing him is not my intention. I only want it to be quick and painless.

“One more day?” He brushes his hand against mine and leans closer, his movements more precise, calculated.

“Let’s stay.”

Neither of us know whether we mean one day or another month or a year or the eternity. I look at his eyes and lift my hand to move the hair out of his face. The loose strands fall restlessly, ignoring any attempts at styling. Hannibal smiles and shakes his head, allowing the hair to mess up completely. Never have I laughed so loudly. Never has Hannibal indulged me in such a sight – him being so openly goofy. Carefree? I’ve seen that. I’ve seen him improvise and take the life as it was but this…

He moves closer and closer. I can feel his breath on my cheek and lips and I wonder if he’s going to ask permission. I’m curious whether this is just teasing and any moment now he’ll be gone, leaving to the kitchen to make breakfast.

He’s suspended in the mist of pure emotions, blank page in my mind. I can no longer see him. I only feel him. The warmth of his breath and the touch of his palm against my stubble. I know he missed it when he had to shave me to take care of the wound in my cheek.

The tension is killing me. For all the years and all the time we spent circling each other, orbiting each other; for all the mistakes and falls, he’s still not desperate. Not enough to just grab me and take what he wants. Unless he doesn’t really-

His lips touch mine and I see his eyes are closed now. He’s lost in the sensation while I still try to see through him. When he tilts his head, I grab his shoulder, allowing myself a feel of the strong flesh under my fingertips. Something I missed, something I craved without even knowing.

He kisses me gently, as I imagined he would. No rush, no unnecessary movements. It would seem the kiss is slow yet passionate and it provokes my body to react in all kinds of ways. I’ve already experienced arousal and I’m no stranger to sex. I just never thought I would moan into another guy’s throat or that my dick would twitch at the mere implication of being penetrated.

I try to shut my brain and let myself feel. I want to experience what Hannibal is experiencing.

Our noses rub against each other as Hannibal moves his head and we change the angle. I catch my breath and want to laugh at my desire to count the seconds we’ve been kissing. I assumed it would be short, a testing of waters, and then maybe we would decide we wanted to do this again. But I still feel his lips pressed against mine. Our tongues are almost merged into one and then I feel the immediate need to breathe more deeply.

Fascinating, how a simple kiss can be exhausting. I gasp as I allow more air to run straight to my lungs. Hannibal watches me as he continues stroking my cheek. And so, we stay.


End file.
